The Blood of Angels
by Vitrealle Aurora
Summary: Angel Arthur is sent to earth as punishment for a crime he committed against God, and is now in a world of humans who can't even see him. Save one. Will Alfred F Jones help the Angel atone for his sin, or lead him into committing something even more sinful? (Warning: feels, deep thinking and philosophy may be involved)(Rated M for stuff that will happen later on.)
1. The First Angel

It was raining that day. It wasn't a particularly hard concept, those fat, wet drops that fell from the clouds like angels tears. We were used to it, jaded, and we knew its every cause and function, but we could do little to control it, only to build up small fortresses against its wetness and wait and watch it come and go as it pleased. The clouds hung low, and thick, and dark, as the rain fell from them. It didn't pour, but it was not a sprinkling shower either. It simply… fell. It lulled and rocked and rolled down window panes, fogging them up from the inside, so that small, idle children could trace pictures in the frosty glass. It fell, not silently nor loudly, but in a calm, rhythmic way that made the heart slow, and the mind wander.

A young man around twenty three knew this rain well. He walked the streets under a faded but still very vibrant umbrella with the Union Jack printed proudly on its protective surface. The man tried to look common, not too out of place, although it wouldn't matter either way. On top of his head sat a crop of unruly golden hair which stuck out unscrupulously, as if some magnificent glittering beast had taken residence on the mans scalp. Below it were thick eyebrows that, while somewhat odd and humorous, seemed to suit him, and made his face complete, somehow. Under the thick brows were a pair of emerald orbs, acidic green eyes which held something… something in them that appeared far, far beyond his years. He wore ordinary clothes, a black turtleneck, a long coat. All in all, he was fairly unnoticeable at first glance. Until one noticed the two relentlessly protruding wings that stuck out from his shoulder blades.

The mans wings were feathery and bright white in color, although a grey wetness hung at the lower tips, tainted from the ever perpetual rain. They moved as he moved, ruffled at chills as he shivered, and acted as much a part of him as his arms, chest or legs. He took no action to hide them, for it wasn't necessary. Humans couldn't see angels.

The thought saddened the man, but he knew this was his punishment. He had betrayed God, and for it, been sent to earth to repay his sin. The blue sky he'd loved in heaven was now gone, forever covered by perpetual grey. He'd forgotten what the color even looked like, and all that he saw in his mind was grey clouds, grey hills and cold, grey rain.

The humans passed him, and he they, and he was accustomed to this, and paid it little thought, although the sadness still ebbed as his heart every moment he went unnoticed. His green eyes were pensive and darkened as he kept a gaze firmly on the pavement, wings trailing behind him, feet shifting below, and perpetual drops of rain softly making repetitive tnks on his umbrella above him. To his left and right, a road, and a shop, but neither mattered. But if he had cared to think about what was ahead of him(and you may be perfectly glad he didn't) he might have stopped, changing not only that moment, but the course of history.

***Angels***

As the man stepped onto the street, he didn't notice the car speeding towards him. Just because Humans couldn't see him didn't mean they couldn't hurt him, and he very well might have died there, if it weren't for a voice that came suddenly.

"Sir, Look out!" Suddenly strong arms grabbed the man and pulled him out of the cars pathway. People stopped to gawk at the strange scene, which they saw as a man talking to air. Students who were just being dismissed from their lectures snorted and spat at the man, but this man wasn't someone to care about those things.

"Are you alright sir?" A young man with ashen hair who had a face that made you unsure whether to call him a boy or a man looked down at the surprised angel, adjusting his silver framed glasses.

The angel was speechless, staring into this mans eyes. There was that color again. That color the clouds always hid, that he had loved so dearly and lost so cruelly. That beautiful blue that reminded him of home, and safety and had always cheered him up when he was being picked on by the other angels in heaven. He gazed into those beautiful blue eyes, bewildered, and snapped out of it only when the man spoke again.

"Are you alright, sir?" The man said a little more worriedly. He checked himself and muttered something about "Concussions… warning signs…" the Angel had no clue what a Cun Cush Shun was, but it didn't sound pleasant. The angel hurriedly blurted without thinking.  
"How can you see me?" His green eyes were wide with confusion and slight terror; after all, humans couldn't see him. So what was this man then? Was he not human?

The man straightened up, helping the angel to his feet and then straightening his tie. He was wearing a suit that he was clearly uncomfortable in, yet it looked good on him, and his long legs and arms were clearly muscular but not bulky. "I don't think that's really what's important right now… though… I suppose taking you to a hospital would be pointless since apparently only I can see you…" The man pondered while the angel just gazed at his sky blues and wondered what he was going to do next.

"Well, we can't stay out here forever." The man was right, the angels umbrella was ruined by the car and the man forgot his in his haste to help the angel. They walked a little way onto the campus that was close by, and the man led him into an apartment, number 7476.

It was a nice apartment, but judging from the lack of character or even trash the man rarely spent much time there. The rain pattered down a large bay window that overlooked a courtyard, and by the window there was an assortment of instruments, as well as some odd sports equipment. The walls were white and bare, save for one, old and quite tattered(but lovingly so) poster of a man in red, white, and blue uniform holding a shield that was also red, white, and blue, with a star in the center. It was clear it had been well cared for, and remained the only thing adorning the walls in the main room. There was a small hall with a bedroom and a bath, but it didn't seem like there was much else there.

The man disappeared into the restroom and came out a moment later with a towel around his shoulders, and dropped one onto the angels hair, fussing and drying it. The angel shoved at him and began to do it himself as a slight blush dusted his cheeks, so the man turned to the kitchenette and pulled out some mugs, filling and putting on a cheap looking kettle. "I usually just have coffee, but I think my brother probably stashed some tea here last time he came." The angel politely asked for the tea and the man set about making it.

Once he was done, he set the mug on the small table, barely big enough for two people and sat down in the chair opposite the angel. The angel took a sip of the tea. It tasted awful, but he was so elated by the gesture he didn't really mind all that much. He was simply high off the happiness of being seen so that everything radiated to him. He pondered, but remained silent, and after a moment or two of silence the man begin to speak.

The man explained that his name was Alfred F Jones. He was newly twenty, American, and a student teacher at the college, while he was getting his masters. He spoke quickly but was easy to listen to at the same time. He said that his mother had always wanted him to be a teacher since she never made it to college. He said it a little sadly, and it was obvious he had other dreams but he didn't _com_plain about his situation, he merely _ex_plained it. The angel found himself hanging onto every word, and was so absorbed in his new acquaintances story that he could only jolt and blink in confusion when the man stopped and said "What about you?"

The man noticed his confusion and clarified. "I mean, what's your name? You're an angel, aren't you?"  
The angel nodded, slowly, apprehensively. "My name… is Arthur," the angel said, looking down, wings quivering slightly. He looked up. "Are you my punishment?"

The younger man was confused and the angel hastily explained why he was on earth and how normally humans can't see angels. The pair of sky blues lit up instantly.

"Well maybe it's fate, y'know?" He grinned, and the angel felt his cheeks turning red. "You can stay the night if you want, it's gonna be dark soon anyway."  
The angel declined politely, pointing out that the man only had one bedroom.

"It's cool, I'll take the couch, I always do when my bro's over anyway." The man grinned, pulling a blanket out of a closet and tossing it on the couch.

The angel nodded slightly, then paused. "Uhm… M-mister Jones?"

The man laughed with a laugh caught between attractive and annoying. "Call me Alfred, or even Al if you want."  
"Right… Alfred." The angel corrected himself. "Thank you."

"No prob." Alfred switched on the television, and the station was in the middle of a classic movie marathon. Casablanca flickered to life on the screen and the black and white face of Rick smiled at his new companion for the thousandth time, but it always felt like the first. "…I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." The character said, but neither Alfred nor Arthur knew then how very right Rick was. Or how very, very fast it would all spiral into something much more than friendship.

*****Angels*****

**Hey readers! I am so happy you read this, and if anyone has any thing to say please comment and follow! This is my first time doing a serial so I really hope you guys will stick with me through the story of these two. ;w;**


	2. Cooking and Stars

The first thing Alfred learned from his new Angel companion was that if cleanliness was close to godliness, cooking had nothing to do with it. He awoke groggily the next morning, fortunately it was Saturday, and he had no classes to teach or substitute. First, he noticed the smell. Something smelled wrong. Not vile or filthy bad, but definitely not pleasant. It took him a few moments to realize what the smell was and jump to his feet, running the meter into the kitchenette. "There's a fi-!" he began to shout, but halted as something caught in his throat.

An angel was standing in his kitchen. _An angel was standing in his kitchen. __**An Angel was standing in his KITCHEN. **_The young undergrad nearly had a premature heart attack before he fully awakened and remembered yesterday's events. He didn't want to be rude to the angel, so he went about his inquiry subtly.

"So… they have stoves in Heaven?" He asked, rubbing at his chin.

The angel shook his head. Alfred's heart suddenly became an elevator, and the cables snapped, plummeting it down to the bottom floor. He still didn't want to be rude, so he swallowed the hard lump in his throat as best he could and instead offered to help. He was no gourmet himself; he hardly ever used the small apartment, but he could certainly keep it from burning down the place.

Together they made quick work of it and soon the food, if you could call it that, was done. They sat down to eat it, or to try, and looked at it nervously, both with a fork in hand. Bravely, with a silent look, they agreed to go at the same time. They raised the food to their mouth and took a bite, chewing, swallowing and then looking at each other. Neither knew why, but in a moment they were laughing hysterically, and even shedding tears. The food was awful, as expected, but the two couldn't stop laughing. When they finally calmed down the young mans eyes were shining vibrantly.

"Wanna go somewhere today? Like someplace you couldn't go by yourself since people would freak at seeing a door move or something." He asked casually, and it was clear he didn't think anything of it. He didn't think anything much of anything, actually, the angel observed, He just did what he felt was right at the time. And now, befriending this angel was what he felt was right. But even what the angel knew was pity was nice to him, so he nodded.

"Actually, I've been wanting to go to the planetarium… and I wanted a teacup from this shop, don't worry I have money for it, but of course I can't buy it myself…" The angel had more to say but realized he was rambling and instead bit his lip and looked down, already feeling he was asking for too much.

The young man only looked at the angel and smiled brightly. It had been far too long since he'd gone anywhere with anybody, much less a friend. He put on a Batman T-shirt that admittedly wasn't as nice as the suit, what with its cool, slimming grey and its streamlined cut, but it showed a bit more muscle than it's 'strictly-for-work' counterpart. He pulled on a brown leather bomber jacket, with the number 50 proudly emblazoned on the back, and a black and white star over the heart. The angel normally associated such things with violence and the worst kind of it but it suited the young teacher, in a way the angel felt nothing else would.

Arthur once again donned his long dark grey trench coat, and together they left the small apartment.

**Angel**

The angel looked up at the man, nervous of whether or not he should say something, unsure he even could, and just as he decided he would force up the courage, he found he didn't have to, as the teacher began to speak.

"I haven't been anywhere with a friend in a while." He was looking up at the sky, as if casting a beam of content up at the grey. He didn't seem to mind those large, low handing clouds. As hundreds upon hundreds of tiny wet droplets made their unending descent to the rooftops of buildings, the slick sidewalks, and the tops of the ever loyal umbrellas that glistened in the filtered grey light, the man didn't seem to mind them, and instead looked at them with affection in his eyes.

The angel was quiet, but managed a reply regardless. "Really?" Really was all he could say. He found it a bit hard to believe, honestly. The young man was friendly and handsome, and kind. He seemed the type to draw people to them, the candle surrounded by moths. He surely had many friends.

"Yeah." The man turned his gaze down to the angel. "I guess I'm pretty popular with the girl students," 'Of course…' the angel thought. The man continued, "And the guy students all resent me for it, plus the older teach's don't like me much, they think I'm annoying." He scratched the back of his head. "I used to go places with my bro when he visited, but he doesn't come 'round much anymore…"

"Oh…" The angel looked down at his feet. He had nice, black boots that hid under his darkened wet pant cuffs. He glanced over at the Americans shoes, red sneakers, labeled with a star inside a circle on the inside wall, with lettering that proudly proclaimed them to be "Chuck Taylor's All-Star Converse" shoes. The angels gaze followed up the soft, blue jean fabric that covered the mans long legs. He was so lost looking at this person, this one soul who had seen him, that he failed to notice they'd stopped walking. His gaze trailed ever upward until his emerald orbs met with the mans sky blues.

"Ah—Sorry!" The angel looked down immediately, causing the man to start chuckling, closing his eyes and bring up his right hand to cover his laughter.

"Pff-"

The angel pushed his mouth into a pout and looked up at him. "Don't make fun of me, wanker." He said, folding his arms.

"Oh, feisty little angel, aren't cha?" Alfred grinned. "I didn't know angels were even capable of cussing, much less outright accusing someone of touching themselves as a derogatory term." His brother had kept him well versed in which colorful English words one should best not repeat, and why.

The angel spluttered, struggling to come up with a reply, something, something to gain the upper hand here but his mind came up blank, so all he managed to choke out was "W-well, I-I" Hoping it would buy his brain some time to think of an adequate comeback, but it was not to be. The man only laughed more, and Arthur began to see why some people found Alfred annoying.

"Hey," A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, causing his wings to ruffle and a sudden, but not wholly unpleasant, chill to run down his spinal column. "We're here." And they were 'here'.

In front of them was a small shop, with a brick façade and a small sign on the front that was lit up with pink and white letters arranged to spell "Tea Parties and More". Alfred pushed open the door, causing the little array of bells to go off as a sign a customer had come. They stepped inside and Alfred set his umbrella (this one had the American flag loud and proud instead of the British one) in the stand by the door. The only person in the shop was a cute girl, standing behind the buyers counter. She had long brown hair in a ponytail and green eyes, though not quite as pretty as Arthur's green. She was wearing an apron, and promptly greeted them,(though to her it was just Alfred) when they entered the shop.

"Welcome!" The clerk said with a bright smile, and Arthur noticed she was eyeing Alfred a bit too much for his tastes. Of course, from her point of view, he was here in her shop alone, and almost too tempting.

Arthur felt the need to get out as soon as possible so he pointed Alfred towards the teacup he wanted. Alfred walked over to it, and picked it up, analyzing its smooth china surface. Around the rim were images of winged green rabbits, flying in a circle around the opening. Underneath were the words "Made in the U.K." proudly indented on its bottom. After observing this, he took it to the counter and told the clerk he wanted to buy it.

The clerk blinked. "Gift for your mom?" She asked, although she made sure to make her voice cute and lilted, hoping to stir a heart that, unbeknownst to the pretty cashier, wouldn't be stirred by something so fake.  
"For a friend of mine." He said it casually, but it still made Arthur's heart beat faster. 'Friend…'

The clerk wrapped it and put it in a nice crisp white paper bag with the shops name scrawled on it in rose colored letters. Alfred handed her a credit card before his angel companion could hand him the money. She swiped it before handing it back, while the Angel said in a sort of hissed whisper "Why did you do that?". The man simply ignored the question and took the bag, flashing a smile and left the store, taking his umbrella and holding the door for Arthur.

"Wait!" Arthur hastily shouted, once they were out in the open rain again, and have a sharp tug to the young teacher's sleeve.

"What?" Alfred looked at him casually, as if he'd done nothing wrong, nothing out of the ordinary, as if he saw purchasing the tea cup as just something anyone would do.  
The casualness of it all took away Arthur's voice, and he fell silent. After a momentary struggle with himself he looked down and managed to force out a simple "Thank you."  
Alfred smiled. "No prob."  
And they continued walking. Arthur noticed it was in the opposite direction of the cities planetarium, London's then famous 'Sky Dome', but the undergrad seemed to know where he was headed, and so they fell into silence, walking side by side, in a rhythm that matched the rain.

**Angel**

Soon they arrived where they started, at the college campus south of Westminster. Arthur was beginning to doubt the teacher, when they stopped in front of a large grey college building. It was clear it wasn't used much, and it was locked. Alfred put a finger to his lips and winked at the Angel, pulling out a set of keys and turning the lock.

With a satisfying click he grinned, and turned the handle, pushing it open to reveal a large room that was entirely empty, aside from a projector situated on a pedestal in the center of the room. At least, Arthur thought it was a projector. He'd never seen anything like it before, but it cast a glowing wonder all around the room.

The rest of the room itself was… well… magnificent. The entirety of space, the heavens, the stars, bursting and swirling and burning with unearthly light were splayed out before his eyes. It was beautiful, nerve wracking, breathtaking, thrilling, yet, still somehow splendidly calm all at once. It was fascinating.

The door closed behind them, and the sudden movement broke the angels shock. The young teacher smiled innocently and washed away any thoughts of panic the angel had. The angel mentally beat himself for thinking otherwise. Many thoughts swirled through his head, all of them damaging. "Sinful bastard…" "This is why God didn't want you…" "Unclean…" Every one of his own thoughts broke against his soul and crashed against his heart like waves on a Cliffside, cracking at the rock and breaking it down, crumbling into the ocean, which grabbed up the pieces and carried them out to sea, out of sight and out of reach.

The angels heart jolted then slowed as strong, warm hands dropped around his shoulders in a comforting manner.

"You okay?"

Arthur checked himself and nodded.

"I figured no one would be here so it'd be better, like if someone bumped into you it'd be pretty bad, plus you can enjoy this more." He smiled, genuinely glad to do something for someone else.

The angel wondered how on earth this could be a punishment, meeting someone so pure, so kind, so beautiful. He would soon find out that this punishment would be worse than anything else he could have faced.

***Angel*  
Wow! I know four really isn't probably a lot of follows but I'm ecstatic about it. I've never done a serial before so of course I've gotten follows now haha. I'm gonna try and be relatively quick about updating it, but I think at least a new chapter will come out within two weeks of the previous one. I think that's best, I guess. I even got feedback from one lovely person, and I would love to hear more. If anyone has any questions about characters or people who appear or even haven't appeared that you'd like to, please leave a message. Thanks for reading, and happy Friday!**


	3. Orion

One day soon passed and another and another, and before the Angel knew it he'd been staying at the blue eyed Americans house for a week. In that time, he'd come to know almost every day to day habit of the man.

1. He rarely came home, and spent most of his time studying or teaching. (there were several times the angel wandered into the colleges library to find him asleep, alone at one of the tables after closing time.)

2. When he did come home, he rarely slept, opting to watch old movies on the television in his living room (if you could call it that, it was a small apartment so the living room, kitchen and dining room were one space) and eat fast food.

3. He also spent a large amount of time working out, all the while muttering something about his weight.

4. He never spent time there, but he certainly didn't clean.

As Alfred spent his days teaching and working, Arthur tried to make himself as useful as he could. He cleaned up the apartment and dusted everything, and wiped away the layer of grime that wasn't caused by lack of neatness, but rather by continuous neglect. Still, although it had its various shortcomings in size and upkeep, Arthur rather liked the small apartment, and was grateful that he was being allowed to stay there.

Still, the feeling of loneliness began to ebb its way back into his heart, and he sighed, looking out the large bay window at the raindrops that were scattering to the ground below. The apartment was on the sixth floor of the building, which was apartments for teachers who had houses out in the country and came to teach only on certain weekdays. Alfred was the only one who actually legitimately lived there, if you could call it that.

Arthur glanced at the new clock(Alfred only needed his watch, but he bought the clock for Arthur to use). It was a Friday night, and his evening class should have let out right now. Which meant he was probably in the library. Arthur sighed and pulled his coat on, putting away his cleaning supplies and undoing the protective bandana he'd tied around his hair. He grabbed the spare set of keys Alfred left for him (So he could go visit the planetarium as much as he wanted) and locked the apartment, leaving for the library.

**Angel**

The stars shone brightly in their heavenly stead, in the sky, the real sky, real stars casting real light. The moon wasn't waning yet, but it wasn't quite full either, as it cast a pallor of midday on the sidewalks. It was dark, true, but it wasn't hard to see in this darkness, and the cool air alleviated it just enough so the darkness was pleasant instead of lonely.

Just as the angel began to turn towards the library his eyes suddenly glanced across to the large courtyard in the center of the college complex. Lit by the soft moonlight glow, a figure was sitting on a bench, looking up at it. In his hands he held a cup of Starbucks coffee, which had cooled enough so it was no longer puffing out foggy steam into the chilled air.

"Alfred!" the angel shouted, but only in his mind, for his heart froze his vocal chords, feeling somewhere that he shouldn't disturb this moment. Instead he slowly approached the man, reaching him in silence. It was a clear night, for once, and the rain had parted for a moment so that the late worker might enjoy the sky's wonder for just a moment.

"…You ever wonder how you could possibly place a value on someone's life?" The man spoke slowly, in a low whisper, as if sharing some great secret with the world, never breaking his gaze with the incomplete moon.

The angel wasn't sure what he meant, so he remained quiet, and waited for Alfred to go on.

"How can someone be worth more or less than someone else? …Why do the good people die before the bad ones, and why do the bad ones get called bad in the first place?" The young teacher gazed at the stars as the moon glistened in his eyes, asking his questions that no one could answer. People seldom realized how much this person thought about the world, and how beautiful those thoughts could be. Day to day actions taint the perception of the soul, and people seldom see what really lies underneath. The teacher knew this, and continued, just talking, and Arthur wasn't quiet sure if he was speaking to him or to the moon, or perhaps he was speaking to the world, the night that couldn't hear him, and if it did, lacked the power to reply.

"…When I was little my mom would point out the different constellations. I always liked the hunter, Orion. His stories pretty sad, but he sounded like a good guy. I used to think if I kept asking him my questions, someday he'd answer… but he never did…" The teacher sighed, and then broke his gaze with the moon, as he felt the angels soft, slightly chilled hands wrap around his in comfort. The angel was looking at him, sadly, worriedly, so he pushed all of the angel's worries far away with a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." He said it convincingly, but the angel still wondered just how much damage was hiding behind that beautiful smile.

Arthur decided to let it be, and instead offered a hand to help him up. Alfred stood up, taking his hand, and together they walked back, fingers lightly interlocked, with the constellations watching over them, and the moon shining gently at their backs.

**Angel**

It was around eight when Arthur woke up to a sharp knocking at the door. Sleepily he called out to Alfred to answer it, and Alfred got up groggily to open the door. His hair was mussed and in all directions, he didn't have his glasses on and his favorite superman tee was draped, wrinkled beyond repair, over the frame of his torso but he opened the door nonetheless. The angel wandered into the living room apprehensively, and his eyes met the eyes of someone who looked very much like Alfred.

The man in the doorway had hair that was longer, cleaner and slightly curly, and his eyes had a softer, almost purplish color to them, than Alfred's vibrant sky blues. He spoke in an accent that was not American and was not British. In fact, Arthur couldn't remember ever hearing of a country that had an accent like that before.

"What's up bro?" Alfred said casually, like he was used to this.

The other man folded his arms, unamused. He glanced around the apartment, surprised at how clean it was.

"Did you get a maid, Alfred?" his brother raised an eyebrow.

"Nope." Alfred scratched the back of his head, stepping aside to let his brother into the apartment. His brother thoroughly inspected everything, before announcing his conclusion.

"You're living with someone." His brothers tone had taken on an accusatory 'why did you not tell me this I mean we could have already had a double date by now you little shit, eh' kind of sound to it, and Alfred merely shrugged.

"Yeah." Alfred didn't see the need to lie here.

"Who are they? Don't tell me you're shacking up with that pretty young thing that always hangs around whenever we go anywhere." Alfred's brothers statement made the angels heart beat faster. 'Pretty young thing'? It seemed there were more than just students and shop girls after the young teachers heart.

"You're much nicer when your _boyfriend's _around." Alfred took his siblings sass and shoved it in his face in less than ten words. The other man blushed furiously. "You leave him out of this, stupid!" Alfred just gave a smirk of satisfaction and closed the door.

"By the way, I'm not 'shacking up' with anybody, I have no interest in any of those girls aside from helping them learn and don't you have somewhere to be with your boyfriend?" Alfred said all of this very quickly, he wasn't agitated, but the point needed to be made and he was making it.

His brother seemed to be content to let the subject of his mysterious new tenant be and decided to change to a new one. "So, had any gigs lately?" He asked, trying to be nice to his American sibling.

The American sighed. "You know I spend all my time working to put myself through grad school, right?" His brother softened at this, and put a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "I'm sorry…"

Alfred jerked his shoulder back, going over to the fridge and pulling out a soda bottle. "Don't be." He said, opening it and leaning on the counter to take a gulp of it. "She wasn't your mother anyway." He said it without malice, but his words still stung the other man.

'So they're half brothers?' the angel watched the scene quietly, with great interest, and wondered to himself what a 'gig' was. He'd have to ask Alfred later.

The teacher looked up, and in his eyes there was a kind of hopelessness, but still within that dullness there was a spark, clinging on and burning, one ever faithful spark, that had not yet given up. "Don't worry about it man. I'll be stuck as a teacher my entire life and I'll never change the world."

His brother cleared his throat. "Maybe if you had a more realistic dream…"

"I don't wanna hear it." And he didn't. The sibling decided he wasn't going to get anywhere with Alfred and apologized, turning to the door.

"Well, I guess you're okay then…" he sighed, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back.

"Hey Matthew." Alfred said with a goofy smile, one of those brotherly affection kind of smiles. "Thanks for coming to see me."

"…You're very welcome Alfred. Take care. Oh, and introduce me to your new friend next time." Matthew gave a wink and left, closing the door.

"You can come out now." Alfred said, smiling a little. It was sorta cute how the angel just hid and watched them, when Matthew wouldn't have been able to see him anyway.

Arthur stepped out of the bedroom in an oversized white dress-shirt he'd borrowed to sleep in. His white wings stuck out behind him and flowed around him with glistening feathers, and his green eyes looked shy under long golden blonde lashes, while a light blush dusted his cheeks. He wasn't wearing any pants.

It was all the American could do to not choke on the soda he was drinking when he finally looked up at the angel. He felt his face get hot, and his heart began to race in a way it never had before. There was a word for this feeling, but his mind drew a blank as to what it was. As he struggled to slap a label on his feelings the angel looked down, noticing his lack of trousers. The angel blushed fervently, and gave an embarrassed squeal before disappearing back into the bedroom to get dressed.

****Angel****

**Hee! I'm really cranking out these chapters. Since people seem to like it so much I don't wanna let you guys down, I guess. W thank you for the lovely comments, I'd love to hear more. Yay, Mattie shows up in this chapter. Sorry if he's a bit OOC, I wanted to make him a little bit stronger in this. He takes the normal place Arthur has of checking up on Alfred because(or so mattie thinks) Alfred's got no one else to do it. w;; Oh, Microsoft word, why are you so cruel. (3 chapters is only ten pages ;n;) well, like always, please like, follow, review, et cetera. I reply to all reviews and I'll get out the next chapter ASAP! Bye-nee! (i'msosorryforspammingwithupdat es)**


	4. Music of the Night

Arthur awoke in the middle of the night. It was late enough so there was just enough dim streetlight glow coming through the pale, rain streaked window to see, although dawn was still very far away. A low, almost husked voice could be heard, and it was soothingly pleasant, like a soft, hushed whisper. The voice rose and fell, and soon Arthur realized someone was singing… the words… he couldn't make them out from the bedroom, so he got up very quietly and tiptoed to the door, pushing it open a crack and peeking into the living room.

The living room was dimly lit, and a single scentless candle was all that lit the space. The shadows were sharp black against every surface, and it transformed the room into something strange, something different.

The angels gaze floated from the candle to the becalmed figure who sat, with his back to the door, cross-legged on the yellow-white tile. He had a crisp, white shirt on, that was tinted a pale yellow, almost gold, in the candle light. He was still wearing his suit pants. He must have not bothered to change from work. The grey suit jacket was hung rather sloppily on the front door knob, verifying this claim.

He was propping himself up on his arms, crisped sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and leaning back, head tilted backward, causing his ashen hair to fall around his face haphazardly, aside from the one proud strand that always stayed in place. His chest rose and fell as he sang, causing the shadows of his shirt to dance a wild dance in the light of the lonely flame.

Arthur began to hear the words clearly, and it was all he could do not to cry.

'_I walk this winding road_

_Shouldering a very heavy load_

_These straps I wear they burn my skin_

_But the darkest marks are made within_

_A tiny rationality _

_Controls every single part of me_

_My muscles scream ever louder 'Run Away'_

_But my better quarter makes me stay_

_This is me, isn't it?_

_This is my path, my choices_

_This winding road which grows brighter bit by bit_

_Ringing with a million voices_

_Every breath I take brings the same resounding pain_

_Every time I dare to drink it burns my tongue like acid rain_

_But is this what I was meant for, to obediently sit?_

_But this is me, isn't it?_

_I don't want to run without jumping, flying_

_I really want to just live without, choking, dying_

_This winding endless road stretches on and twists and turns_

_This careless too big heart, rises and falls, but always burns_

_I want to break these chains that have always bound me_

_I want to still this rain that is falling down around me_

_I want to spread these wings, sheltering the world I care about_

_Watching over everything, but it rises up when I break down_

_This is me, isn't it?_

_This is my path, my choices_

_This winding road which grows brighter bit by bit_

_Ringing with a million voices_

_Every breath I take brings the same resounding pain_

_Every time I dare to drink it burns my tongue like acid rain_

_But is this what I was meant for, to obediently sit?_

_But this is me, isn't it?_

_Isn't it?_

_The rain pours down my face_

_Doesn't it?_

_Be nice to find my destined place_

_Wouldn't it?_

_But it could be far away, under endless seas_

_Couldn't it?_

_When all's said and done, this is me,_

_Isn't it?'_

When the soft, gentle, sad words stopped flowing from the figures mouth, the angel hesitated for only a moment. One moment separated the song before the tears came. Soft, wet, quiet tears refused to stop, and the angel fell to his knees covering his face.

**Angel**  
The next morning, Arthur stumbled out of the bedroom, eyes still puffed and red from the nights sobfest. Alfred was sitting at the kitchen table, devouring a bowl of Cap'n Crunch and watching a concert on the T.V. Arthur glanced at the stage set, which proudly declared the bands name in large, pixelized letters. "Train".

Train? That's a weird name for a band. Or at least that's what shot through the angels head at first. Alfred didn't notice Arthur entering the room, he was captivated by the performance. Arthur stopped to listen to some of the lyrics and froze.

"I need a sign to let me know you're here  
All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere  
I need to know that things are gonna look up  
'Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup

When there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head  
When you feel the world shake from the words that are said

And I… am calling all angels…"

The singer on the television sang with a crisp clear voice, the kind that cut through sadness like a sword through butter. Alfred was watching the singer animatedly, and added his voice when it hit the chorus line.

Arthur was so captivated watching him that he didn't notice that he was about to knock over a glass that sat perched precariously on the edge of the counter. The mug fell and it the floor with a sharp crash, shattering into brilliant pieces of prismatic glass. Arthur jumped and immediately bent down to pick them up, cutting his hands in the process. "S-Sorry I-" he stammered.

Alfred stopped singing, realizing someone was in the room. He jumped up to get the small, handheld broom and quickly swept it up, hiding his nervous blush that someone had heard him. Arthur stared at the ground embarrassed, and watched a trickle of blood trail down his finger from the cut he'd received at the tip.

Alfred swept up the glass quickly, disposing of it. He kneeled down next to Arthur, grabbing his wrist and looking at the blood on his finger.

"Are you alright?" he looked down at it, his sky blue eyes partly hidden by long blonde lashes.

The angel's heart beat faster suddenly. "A-ahh…" he couldn't manage more than a weak sound, and his face began to heat up with a red glow.

Suddenly Alfred pulled at Arthur's wrist, moving his finger towards his lips. He kissed his finger, sucking away the dripped blood simultaneously. He glanced upward at Arthur's blushing face, and released his pale, scrawny wrist.

Arthur's wrist recoiled and he stared into those endless eyes, their faces close, their foreheads nearly touching, their lips not far behind.

Alfred whispered slowly. "I don't need to call all angels… because I only need the one I've got."

The angel's heart skipped a beat, and he tried hard to avoid blushing furiously, but to no avail. Alfred stood up, and helped Arthur up off the floor. Without another word, he grabbed his cool grey suit jacket, and left for work.

**Angel**

**God damn this chapters short. I'm so sorrryyy. But hey, we finally got some loving. Sorta. Yes, I wrote the song Alfred sings in the beginning of the chapter,(I write a lot of songs, actually vwv;;) if I ever use a quote or song lyrics I didn't make I'll incorporate them with a scene where the original location of the lyrics/quote is there. Like with train and Casablanca. Anyway, thanks as always for taking time to read this, and I hope to get another chapter out soon! I'm also really sorry for the inbox spam and I think the next chapters gonna take a while to come out since this one was so... fluffy and i think I need to slow down just for the sake of the quality of the work. In the meantime please follow and review and tell me what you think is good(or bad, always room for improvement) and thank you!**


	5. Sad Secret Memories

A long time ago, God told all the angels that they must set an example for the human race. He sent the angels down to earth to see what humans were like, so they could be better than them. One by one, the angel's came back to heaven and shared their discoveries.

Analeus, the first angel came to God and said, "The humans are unclean. I vow to be a good example by cleansing my body as well as my soul." God approved of this pledge.

Barteus, the second angel, came to God and said, "The humans are untrustworthy. I vow to be a good example by never going back on my word." God approved of this pledge.

Castiel, the third angel, came to God and said, "The humans are cruel. I vow to be a good example by treating every soul with kindness." God approved of this pledge.

One by one, all the angels approached and pledged, and one by one, God agreed to them all. Soon, there was but one, small angel left to pledge, and he timidly stepped forward, his white wings shining like snowdrops in the light of his master.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with humans at all." This green eyed angel spoke softly, but strongly, to the sheer astonishment of his peers and master. "I think humans are just fine the way they are. They live the only way they know how, because that's how they were made to live. Aren't we the ones unclean, rising ourselves above them? Aren't we the ones who are cruel, judging their fates without ever knowing them? If we judge them, we're the monsters, and they're the saints. You become just as bad as they are, with your pledges, and your vows. I think they're perfectly imperfect, as you made them." The angel gazed straight into the eyes of God, defiant, truthful, and just a little scared.

Analeus was enraged, and struck the angel a fierce blow from behind. "You insolent little heretic! Do you have no respect for our Lord, our Creator? Without Him you wouldn't have a mouth to shoot off!"

Barteus agreed, dealing the angel another blow, from the front. The other angels joined in, kicking and hitting, bruising the green eyed angel beyond recognition.

"Little tripe! Apologize to Him!" Analeus spat in the angels face.

But the angel wouldn't apologize. He fought back until he was bloody and had no more energy. Amelia, the red winged angel threw herself in front of the angels body.

"Stop! You must stop! This is madness! I was human once, and not all humans are bad! He's not wrong! Stop!" But Amelia's desperate cries went unanswered and in a moment she was violently tossed to the side, slipping into unconsciousness.

There was never such a furious hatred as was born in heaven that day. Angels were beaten bloody and listless in the panicked frenzy, but none so more than the green eyed angel.

And God? God just sat there and watched, with a glint in his eyes and a smile on his face.

**Angel**

Arthur woke up under white linen sheets. In his wakeless state he had kicked the dark blue comforter onto the floor, and turned parts of the white pillowcase to a light grey. He felt it, and the dampness was cool to his fingertips. He looked out the window. It was still dark outside, dawn wouldn't raise its head for a few more hours at least. He picked up the comforter and put it back on the bed, properly, then crawled underneath it. Slowly, he dried his tears, and lay staring at the underside of the comforter, eventually slipping back into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

**Angel**

Time that passes slowly, without minutes, without hours, but gets stuck in a calming kind of perpetual limbo is the best kind of time. This is what a certain angel thought, as his long, slender arms draped across a table and he rested his small, slightly pointed chin on their ivory surface.

He was busy loftily gazing out the large window at the crystalline droplets that pittered and pattered on the windows sleek surface like small feet on a linoleum floor. There was something about the way rain fell, that could both stir and slow the heart, in a way nothing else could. The timeless water droplets hadn't bothered him recently, and Arthur was beginning to see why.

Although he rarely saw the young teacher on the weekdays, he had him all to himself on the enders, Saturday and Sunday, although it still wasn't much. So far they'd just sat around and played games(Arthur was rather fond of this human invention called scrabble, because his vocabulary was quite _prodigious _when compared to the young teachers.)

Alfred seemed to have a great proclivity for sports, although it couldn't be said he was particularly good at them. He was strong and fit, but whenever he played with the students he would always fumble the ball at the last minute, or kick it in the wrong goal. Still, Arthur liked gazing out the window to watch him scuffle with the college students, giving it all he had. Even just watching, Arthur realized he was slowly becoming happier than he'd been in a very long time.

Arthur wondered what this odd, gentle, yet ecstatic feeling that made his heart lull and also beat wildly whenever Alfred was near. As his chin rested lightly on his bared forearm, turning it faintly pink, his mind began to wander. There were many things he didn't know about his companion, about himself, he wanted to know. He needed to. He wanted to ask, to know what kind of life Alfred had led.

But it was 3:03 pm, and Alfred wouldn't be home for hours. Arthur trudged into the bedroom and mussed around in Alfred's closet, burying his lashes in the alternating crisp and soft fabric of his shirts. They had more of his scent than the bed ever did, and although Arthur didn't know why, it was a scent he longed for. He would have gladly continued burying himself in this scent, but something else caught and held the angels attention.

A large trunk rested at the bottom of his closet, towards the back, as if guarding some great secret. It was patterned like the American flag, and had a lock fixed securely to the front. Arthur looked around furtively. Wellll, he wouldn't be home for quite some time.

Arthur put his finger to the lock, whispering soft, hushed words, like a sacred prayer that only an angel could know. A soft glow like altar candle light emanated from his index finger, building up at the tip and summoning soft magic circles that grew and spun, eventually shrinking down into the keyhole, opening the lock with a soft click.

He carefully lifted the lid, long porcelain fingers tracing up the underside of the lid, navigating the vital separation point. Inside was… inside was…. Inside was what? Hundreds of pieces of a paper were layered thickly in the top of the chest. Thousands of black inked letters scrawled across the surface of the sheets, both lined and not.

Words. Just Words. But…Words that meant something. Precious, beautiful words. One by one, Arthur read them. So many songs, words, phrases; they were moving, but still. Quiet, yet screaming out with pain and anguish, They were secrets, whispered on a rainy day, and proud proclamations, shouted through megaphones in crowded squares. And Oh, they were oh, so beautiful.

Arthur willed himself not to cry, and the question returned that what, what could inspire someone to write something so… spectacular?

As Arthur reached the bottom of the chest, his long, slender fingers hit something hard. His hand deep in loose-leaf, he traced his fingers over the calloused surface, closing his eyes and feeling the strange unusual texture. His fingers curled and curved over the flat, bumpy surface, eventually transitioning to something smooth, cool, and thin, inlaid into it, which wound and twisted in exciting, elegant curves.

Arthur reached down and snatched the object, wrapping his fingers around the sides, securing his grip. He slowly pulled out a small, leather bound notebook, and the lyrics sheets shifted and stirred, moving to fill the gap it left. The notebook had the initials "AFJ" beautifully inscribed on the cover in gold. It was the kind of thing the young teacher would cherish as a gift, but would never buy himself. So it had to have been given to him. But by who?

Arthur thought he shouldn't. Well, he probably shouldn't. Well no, he actually really knew he shouldn't. (But you know about women and curiousit—I mean) But really, there was no going back now. The angel resolved to just read one page, just one, and put it back. Just one page would be okay, right?

He flipped to a random, ink stained page and began to read.

"_Dear Journal,_

_She's gone. The other day, she was telling me a story about angels, and now…I guess she is one. Matthew doesn't understand. She was never his mom. To him, she was always auntie Amelia. I didn't cry at the funeral. I wouldn't let myself. I still won't, but sometimes, in the middle of the night, the tears will fall, and I won't be able to hold them back. I want so badly to run into the darkness and let it swallow me up, to break down and give in, but I won't. I don't understand why people have to die. Especially good ones, ones we love, ones we're close to. But… I have to believe there's good out there. There's good in people, good in life, good in the world and above it. I truly believe that. I have to. I have to believe there's still a brighter light waiting for me. I have to believe…I have to believe in Angels. –Alfred F Jones"_

As Arthur struggled to comprehend the levity of the words he'd just read, he jumped.

"Hello? Who's here?" A familiar voice came from the main room, and the front door opened and shut. Arthur hastily shut the book, dropping it and fleeing to a far corner of the room. Matthew walked in, puzzled. He looked around the room and saw no one, naturally. Then his eyes fell upon the open chest and diary.

"Well, whoever he's living with, they have no regard for personal privacy, I hope he knows that." Matthew sighed to himself, and although Arthur wasn't supposed to hear them, he did, and they went through his chest like a sharp steel knife, stabbing his heart. Matthew picked up the diary and set it back in the trunk, pushing it down to the bottom. He shut the lid and reset the lock, looking at it closely for a moment. "…picked it, probably." He muttered lowly to himself, explaining away his unasked question. He checked the rest of the apartment thoroughly, and seeing no one, still, he left the apartment, with a perplexed frown plastered on his face.

** **Angel****

**Wheeee! This chapters a bit long, since its kinda two in one, but if I posted arthurs flashback as one chapter it'd be way too short so I combined them. Sorta kinda an insight into Arthur /and/ Alfred's pasts in this chapter, hope you enjoy it. I realized I've been writing this from arthurs PoV but in third person. So next chapter, we're gonna have some time with just Alfred. Hopefully. Maybe. I dunno. Would anyone like that? Oh say Mattie and Al go out for a drink, like that. I dunno. Sorry it's been a couple days, lots of shit hit the fan. I hope this chapter is better than the last one, and I hope to see some o' those follows and reviews! Wb **


	6. Intoxication

Alfred sat and stared at the amber colored liquid he was sloshing around in his shot glass. He wasn't one for drinking, but his only brother invited him, so, here he was. Matthew sat next to him at the bar, calmly drinking his mix of vodka and maple syrup. That was his third round. Alfred figured he got it from his mom, Lorraine. Damn, Canadians could drink.

And it was true, or at least, Matthew could. Matthew wasn't even flushed, and instead decided to start up a conversation on a subject he really wanted to know more about. "So this person you're living with…" He began casually, but it was obvious by the way his eyes glistened that he was hungry for information. Alfred supposed he also got that from his mom. Lorraine was a pretty, blonde reporter, well known for her ability to weasel information out of anyone. A dangerous ability she undoubtedly passed on to her son, but Alfred wasn't about to give him his flashy front page scoop, no way.

"Yeah, what about it?" Alfred said back, with no hint of a give away in his voice, sloshing his drink and partly listening to the radio station music blasting from the bars speakers. The dim lighting of the bar disguised friends drunkenly arguing, couples drunkenly kissing, and fitted the aroma of liquor and hindered mental capacity perfectly. Through the corner of his eye he glanced over at a couple making out in the corner. He licked his lips slightly, before receiving a jab in his shoulder commanding his complete and total attention to his half-sibling.

"Male or Female?" He began, simple, easy questions at first, but Alfred knew they would only get harder.

"Male." He answered off handedly, in a way that left Matthew, much to his chagrin, unable to discern whether he was saying it because it was a pointless fact, or because he was trying to make him think that.

"So you're gay?" Matthew grinned, delighted at the prospect his brother had finally thrown away his high school dreams of being loved by everyone, namely girls.

Alfred dodged the question in a way that would even make Lorraine Williams proud. "Just because you are doesn't mean everyone else is."  
Matthew frowned. He wasn't about to be defeated by his brother, even if he was his senior by two years. "What's their name, eh?"

"Arthur." Another off handed answer.

"What do they look like?"

"…he's got… golden hair… kinda normal length…" Alfred bit back a chuckle and a smile, but it still shone in his eyes. "He's got these huge eyebrows, and… really, really green eyes. He's also kinda tiny I guess."

Matthew smirked. He was getting somewhere. "Have you kissed?"  
Alfred choked on his drink, face flushing red all the way to his ear and the back of his neck. "N-no!" He spluttered, choking it out. Matthew calmly hit him on the back, and he breathed deeply, leaning back on the support rail of the black leather and grey metal bar chair in irritation. It was true, he hadn't. Well, the whole kissing his finger thing was only because Arthur got cut, it wasn't anything weird or romantic. Was it? What did Arthur think it was? What did Arthur think… of him? Arthur… Arthur… He looked down, embarrassed, then added quietly, as if whispering a secret. "But… I'd… like to."

When he reflected later, he thought It must have been the alcohol talking. Alfred didn't like drinking, and he was a baby when it came to holding liquor. He didn't like the cute, bubbly, intoxicated version of himself that made an appearance at those times, although Matthew certainly did. It was also easier to swallow, passing it off as the alcohol. The few relationships he'd had had all been friendly, too friendly for his exes tastes, and all of them had ended with him being the dumpee instead of the dumper. He'd just stopped trying after primary college.

Matthew smirked, triumphant at last. "Ah. Ha. So," He began speaking singsong as he started on his maple vodka. "How'd you two meet?"

"I stopped him from getting hit by a car." Alfred gulped down the rest of his drink. He was confused by his own feelings, irritated, and not about to jump down the path of no return. He paid for his drink, tossing some cash onto the counter, which was scooped up by the bartender in haste. Without even a sideways glance at the couple still necking in the back, he left the establishment. He really wasn't one for drinking.

**Angel**

Alfred opened the apartment door, after checking the numbers 6476 about eight times. He regretted gulping down his drink that fast, especially on an empty stomach. With nothing to counteract the hindering substance, it was wreaking more havoc on his system than it should have. There was a reason they didn't let people drink in the U.S. till 21. He would never understand how his brother, the quiet, mild mannered alter-ego of Matthew Williams was such a party animal in his nightlife.

"Alfred! You're home early!" The angel excitedly rose from his spot at the small kitchen table, cheerfully greeting the young mans unexpectedly soon return. Usually when Alfred said 'don't wait up.' He meant it. Arthur usually fell asleep from exhaustion before Alfred came home, and every time he did, without fail, Alfred carried his sleeping body to the bedroom and tucked him in before changing and retiring to the couch.

Arthur began to say something else but managed no more than a cut off syllable before the slightly drunken Alfred was upon him, suddenly pulling him into an embrace. The angel was too shocked to push him away, and stood there helplessly, choking out the teachers name in question. "A-Alfred?" There was a lingering sense of fear in Arthur's voice, and it got through somehow, because in the next second the taller man sprang back, releasing him. The young man was blushing vividly up to his ears and around to the back of his neck, flailing out an apology. "S-Sorry, i-it was the alcohol, I-I, Sorry!"

Arthur began to giggle, laughing so much tears formed at the far edges of his lower eyelids. The laughter felt good to him, so he kept at it until he couldn't laugh any longer for lack of oxygen. When that happened, he wiped the droplets from his eyes. He smiled brightly. "Alcohol sure does strange things to you humans, doesn't it?"

Alfred scratched the back of his head. "Ahaha, yeah, it does. But I dunno maybe sometimes it's good, for people who need to let loose and be themselves, act on how they really feel, y'know?" Alfred was just saying what he thought to be true, and Arthur knew this, but somehow the words echoed and set his heart racing. Had Alfred been acting on what he truly felt, then? Was it even possible, that somewhere, deep down in the recesses of that beautiful, clueless heart that would rather buy kibble for the local kennel than eat dinner that day, there was some semblance of romantic feelings for him?

Arthur shook his head. It wasn't possible. What was he to Alfred anyway? Surely, nothing more than a stranger he met by happenstance, or a stray he picked up from the street. (Sadly both of those were true, just not how Alfred saw him) Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to know. He shouldn't be thinking about it; No, he didn't want to think about it! Angels and humans were simply incompatible, and two… two men… well that was just an outright sin, wasn't it? Arthur never understood why any kind of love or devotion could ever be a sin, but he couldn't challenge God any more than he already had.

Once he managed to push it from his mind he realized Alfred wasn't standing in front of him anymore. He'd gone into the bedroom to change, at least, Arthur guessed he must have. Arthur peeked into the dark bedroom, but no one was there. Where could he have gone off to? Arthur heard the faint shhhh sound coming from the adjacent bathroom. The shower. Arthur knew he shouldn't peek buuut… he _was_ pretty curious. And Alfred was so scatterbrained, he probably wouldn't notice anyway, right? He apologized in his head to Alfred, God, and everyone he knew for what he was about to do. Gently pushing open the white, paneled cedar bathroom door, letting the steam roll out around his ankles, he peered inside.

The soap and steam provided a pretty good censor, like it was strategically placed to keep Arthur from seeing anything dirty. Through the smoked glass of the shower, Arthur could just make out Alfred's pectoral muscles, but he secretly wished for a clearer image. The fogged glass distorted and fuzzed everything, making peeking difficult, and that damn soap covered up the important parts. Arthur reluctantly gave up on seeing any more and peeled his eyes from the shower, shutting the door with a soft click that was easily drowned out by the sound of the shower. His face was burning, but he only just noticed it once the door was closed. He also felt a strange sensation in his, ahem, lower regions. He'd read about something like this… and he wasn't all too keen on what he'd have to do to fix it. In any case, he wasn't going to let Alfred find out about it, so he quickly scribbled a note saying he'd gone out and bolted from the apartment.

**Angel**

**I'm so sorry this chapter's really really late but I've been like super busy. And also this chapters kind of fluffy but there's some plot… sort of. I'm sorry for my lackadaisical writing skills! ;A; length is never my strong suit. But hey, You have more Arthur starting to become aware of his own feelings and Alfred being a dumbass and I'm sorry but he'll remain a dumbass for the most part of this. I think I'm gonna break by chapter ten and just make them fu—I'm kidding. At the very least I'm gonna make them kiss by then. =7=;; but that's four chapters away so who knows, y'know? I hope I'm not boring you by now, and I'd love to see those reviews and comments/concerns too! If anybody would like to tell me if and what I'm doing wrong that'd be great ;w; Nobody improves on just compliments y'know. Okay bye hope to have next chapter out by I guess Friday!**


End file.
